Formation
by no-ruin
Summary: James Tiberius Kirk faces situations he can't handle alone; faces people he can't handle alone.
1. Chapter 1

**Genre**: Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> J. Kirk, Spock  
><strong>Series: <strong>Star Trek: 2009  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>2,475  
><strong>Length: <strong>Multiple  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Descriptions of sexual assault, swearing, violence, torture

* * *

><p>"And for god's sake, Jim, you better come back in one piece," McCoy growled at him from his stance in front of the transporter pad.<p>

James Kirk just stood, well, crouched, and smiled. "I always do," he stated, with an arrogant smirk laced with something else entirely. It seemed that only McCoy could see the thickly masked fear placed underneath his friend's jokes; fear that showed on every mission they went on. Before he could comeback with his usual 'Goddamn it, Jim, no you _don't_', Jim was already gone.

You see, as much as Jim would hate to admit, they had limited information on the internal layout of Cardassian ships and so, as soon as he was beamed aboard, he found himself in a rather unfortunate position.

Right in the middle of a huge meeting.

The ten Cardassians he had just re-materialized in front of jumped up with varying levels of shock displayed, and Jim had his phaser out faster than you could say 'Ohio'. There'd been a reason he'd kept the rest of his crew from participating in this mission, and it seemed he'd been right. Though, that did mean they wouldn't attempt to rescue him unless he contacted them first... He knew he wasn't going to be able to handle this by himself right of the bat; him against ten?

Yeah, right.

Before he could even fire off the first shot his phaser was knocked out of his hands and sent flying across the room, hitting a wall and managing to stun a single Cardassian. He backed up as those remaining took defensive stances around him; closing him in with some odd half-circle formation. Jim quickly backed up, almost immediately bumping into what he realized was another Cardassian. He spun around and fell to the floor automatically after a well-handed right hook.

At his momentary position of weakness the Cardassians swooped down upon him; a way most appropriate to phrase it. They grabbed hold of any limb they cold restrain, easily cutting off most of Jim's struggling and resistance. Four of them kept contact with him as they carried him out of the room, the other six leaving and heading in the opposite direction; most likely to inform any superiors.

Jim struggled with all his might, knowing exactly how pointless it was. Anything to gain him time, though, was more than worth it. He refused to believe in no-win scenarios, but he knew that if they found and took his communicator, he'd have more than slight problems.

He thrashed as much as he possibly could, even managing to kick one of soldiers in the stomach before his leg was grabbed once again, the Cardassian's grip tightening until the point where he felt one of his bones give in to the stress and snap, earning a yell from Jim and a hand clapped over his mouth. He reacted on instinct and bit down, earning a harsh tug on his arm that almost tore it from it's socket, along with getting his head hit on the metal entrance to the room they stopped at. He was thrown in unceremoniously, landing directly on his broken leg wth another yell. The four Cardassians didn't even step in the doorway, decidedly leaving and locking the door behind them as Jim struggled to get himself into a regular sitting position.

There was only one source of light in the entire room; it's size, he couldn't tell. A single old-fashioned lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a metal cord in an attempted intimidating manner. When he had finally managed to pull himself up and lean against the wall, he realized with a start that he was not alone.

A light-gray skinned Cardassian woman; the captain, he assumed by her uniform, stood directly in front of him underneath the faulty light. He had no idea if she'd been standing in the dark corners of the room or not, and the sight of her sent his heart into overdrive. Situations like these were never good, but this certainly wasn't helping. She grinned at him, pushing her long brown hair out of her face as she began to pace slowly back and forth in front of him.

"Captain Kirk," she began, continuing to grin at him like some crazed maniac, which, looking on it, she really was. "As...fortunate," she was picking her words carefully. "As your unexpected appearance may be, I can't help but question your reasoning for it."

She sent him a knowing glance. "Are you here to collect imformation for the Federation?" Jim kept his lips sealed. This reaction caused her to stop pacing, standing in front of him once again. "Not speaking? Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

She lowered herself so that she was directly on his lap, her knees on the outside of his thighs. Jim instinctively leaned away from her, putting his hands on her shoulders to try and push her back, causing her to giggle. She only pushed away his hands, being much stronger than him, and whispered, "Just in case." As soon as she finished speaking the final word, chains snapped around his wrists with a final clicking of gears, having otherwise been silent. He stared at them with wide eyes, looking back up at her as she laughed again, fear striking another cord and his captainly resolve wavering for only a moment.

The woman began to slowly grind her hips and Jim's breath stuck in his throat as he realized her intentions. "Stop it," he warned. She gave him no response, and reached her hands around to toy with his hair as she revolved her hips in a circular motion against his groin in an attempt to attain a response from him. She used one hand and reached into her breast pocket, pulling out a small blade and swiping downwards, cutting his shirt and his chest along with it. Jim let out a growl, and she smirked, wrongly interpreting it as a sign of pleasure.

"My, my..." She laughed quietly, tossing the knife in an unidentified direction. "I've heard your reputation, but I never knew you were such a womanizer," Jim found the entire experience anything but pleasureable. In fact, he was more frightened than he could put into words. She placed her hands to the wall behind him, abandoning his hair, and nuzzled her scaly face in his neck. She moaned and pressed her breasts against his chest, increasing the speed of her hips as she continued to pleasure herself, using him as a device. Jim's eyes began to water as he felt his body start to react against his will.

She looked up at him, no doubt able to feel his dick begin to harden, and grinned and she used one hand to reach down to massage him along with her own body, leaning in for an open-mouthed kiss. As she tried to worm her tongue into his mouth, Jim finally made up his mind and went against his morals, opening his mouth as a decoy before clamping down hard.

She screamed as she was bitten, stopping her ministrations and pulling her fist back before punching him as hard as she could. His head whipped to the side at the force, the other side of his face hitting the wall and making him bite his cheek.

She jumped up, looking scandalized, before calling something out loudly in her native language. Jim could no longer reach to grab his communicator as a last resort, and could only hope she and whoever she was calling wouldn't notice. His heart nearly stopped as a large, tan-skinned Cardassian soldier came rushing into the room, easily twice his size. The soldier looked back and forth between his Captain and James as she spouted off things in her language; clutching a hand to her bleeding mouth.

Jim sat silently, fingers twitching as he tried to understand what she was saying, to no avail. He'd never studied much in xenolinguistics, and now he was fucking paying for it. The man, whose face had quickly changed from confused to twisted with a feral grin, began to approach him with a wicked look in his eye that matched his Captain's. She walked off into a dark corner before returning, blade shining in her hand. She gave a quick nod to who Jim assumed was her version of a First Officer, before kneeling beside where he sat.

Jim's glance flickered between her and the man, sitting there terrified before letting out a yelp as he was grabbed by the ankles and pulled into a laying position. He finally found his voice and began to yell, both Cardassians only laughing at his feeble attempt. Screaming would do him no good, they knew. They thought he deserved what was coming to him.

The man yanked Jim's pants and pulled, taking off both that and his underwear at the same time before he grabbed Jim's knees and pushed them up before spreading them, Jim almost dying right then and there as he was flipped around on his stomach. Curses derived from various languages filtered through his head and he almost began to cry. His breath came out harsh as he listened for any telling sign of movement; he was unable to see anything with his face shoved to the ground and turned towards the woman. He saw her nod to the man once again, muttering several words in their language to him, like instructions.

He had no warning as to when it happened, two hands clamping around his waist with bruising force before something foreign, large, hard, _not his_ entering, ripping_, tearing. _He screamed out in unbearable pain, blood beginning to flow from him already as the Cardassian woman laughed as he was roughly penetrated. They wasted no time in getting to work, the woman digging the knife into his back, matching and opposing every agonizing thrust as she carved a foreign word into his back as a lifetime reminder.

Jim's fists clenched and he dug his fingers into them so hard he broke skin. He felt pain everywhere; his broken leg and bruised face being nothing at all in comparison to the type of pain he was experiencing, the _vulnerability._ The pain spread everywhere, every inch of his body, every limb, every pore, _every fucking cell_ screaming in agony just as he was.

The Cardassian man grunted with each thrust as he approached his climax, using one hand to pull on Jim's hair, ripping out innumerable strands. Jim forced himself to fight through the pain; to stay conscious. He reached back as far as the chains would allow before the woman used one of her hands to slam his back into the wall with a sickening crack, unknowingly breaking part of the chain.

Jim hadn't known he'd been crying at all, nonetheless sobbing, but his voice died down as he fought to stay awake, it taking all of his strength to do just that. They seemed slightly upset by his dimming responses, and the woman slammed her hand down on his back over a few of the cuts she had made, breaking some of the ribs underneath and luckily avoiding his spine. He let out a strangled sob at that, and that seemed to sate the two of them.

Jim's added pain had seemed to arouse the man more, his thrusting becoming more erratic and his pants louder as he came with a final grunt, pulling out of him mercilessly. Jim bit down on his lip to keep from letting out another scream as the liquid burned his insides both literally and figuratively, the woman finishing up her handiwork on his back, having made sure to keep the bleeding to the point where he would still live.

Jim could barey see through the haze clouding his vision, but forced himself to stay awake because if he didn't he wouldn't have another chance. Luck was apparently on his side for the first time that night and before the woman could say anything –_had she said anything? Jim couldn't tell_– a screeching alarm went off, blaring some message in Cardassian and all the lights flaring different colors.

Both the man and woman scrambled to their feet, shouting things to eachother over the sound of the alarm. They pulled themselves together as quickly as possible, the woman dropping the knife and the man pulling his clothes back on as they rushed out the door, leaving Jim restrained and bleeding to attend whatever emergency situation that had popped up.

Jim fought the fatigue and raised his arm up, hitting his wrist a few times against the wall, shattering the chain. He reached over shakily and covered himself as best as he could with his ripped command shirt. He reached in the back pocket of his pants, pulling out the small communicator with shaking hands as the tears began to flow again. He curled up into himself as far as he could, flipping the communicator open.

"S-Scotty?" he whispered, voice breaking. He attempted to reign it in to the best of his ability.

Response came immediately, Montgomery Scott's accented voice coming over. "Yes, Cap'n?" He questioned. The monotone voice of his Vulcan First Officer and the Georgian accent of his bestfriend was able to be heard in the background, both asking the same thing.

How was he? There weren't words to describe how he was.

The sound of Spock's voice inquiring to how he was caused his heart to clench, the realization of just how disgusting he was now causing him to curl further in on himself despite his injuries.

_Disgusting and weak. _

It took Jim a secon, and he almost let out a sob but quickly smothered it, despite the fact that Spock and Bones and Scotty and _everyone_ would see how_ disgusting _their Captain was. How _weak _he was. How much of a _failure _he was.

"Please, bring me back."

"Aye, Cap'n."


	2. Chapter 2

**Genre**: Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: J. Kirk, Spock  
><strong>Series<strong>: Star Trek: 2009  
><strong>Rating<strong>: M  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 2,137  
><strong>Length<strong>: Multiple  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Swearing, violence, frequent name-switching.  
><strong>Note<strong>: I realized my World History teacher has a Spock Prime/Selek action figure on his desk.

* * *

><p>Jim was hyperaware of the eyes on him as his atoms re-materialized.<p>

He sat on the transporter pad with his knees pulled to his chest despite the additional pain it caused. McCoy, who had been leaning against the wall, having not moved since he left despite that being hours ago was moving in less than a second. He immediately sprung into action, propelling forward and ripping off his coat in the process.

Jim focused his gaze to the ground, clutching his shirt tighter against his body and taking shuddering breaths as he sought to ignore both Scotty, who was gaping openly and Spock who was obviously trying to reign in an emotion that Jim wasn't sure if he wanted him to show. Was he disgusted?

Neither Spock nor Scott seemed to know what to say, settling for pointed silence as both Jim and Leonard flew into auto-pilot.

Leonard knelt beside Jim, muttering things under his breath as he shielded him from view and wrapped his white medical coat around him tightly. He looked entirely out of place; the three of them did, really, and once again Jim began to cry. He wasn't sure if it was because of the pain or because of their reactions; more precisely their lack therof, but it seemed unordinarily clear to him that they must be _disgusted_; dissapointed their Captain could arrive in such a state.

Both Spock and Scotty both appeared unordinarily frightened by the sight of those tears; their Captain had never shed them in their presence before. Scotty, from his seat behind the console, turned his head to glance at everyone else in the room. He seemed to snap back into it, adjusting the transporter again, this time for an inner-ship movement. What kind of people would they be, sending their Captain out in front of everyone in the state he was in?

Even if they weren't sure of why he was the way he was now, Jim knew they'd find out eventually and the thought only served to fuel his tears, sending him barelling into what could only be described as weeping. His friend was saying something to Scotty, and before he knew it Spock was in sight again, stepping on the pad with them, _not looking at him_, and once again something dawned on Jim. He realized that he could smell it; that he knew, he knew, _he knew. _

_He knew what happened._

His breath came out ragged and Jim turned to stare into the eyes of his best friend, the only person he could hope; could trust to not be disgusted with him. The look on Bones' face brought the most twisted sense of joy to Jim and he let out a small amount of breath before reaching forward and practically clinging to him, biting back another yell as he continued to, in a roundabout way, torture himself some more.

Bones stilled so as to not hurt him, but murmered something in his ear quickly before he heard Spock's quiet 'Energize' that felt as if just the tone of voice could choke Jim again, just like he had on the bridge a little over a year ago. Soon, the three found themselves all stuffed into Sickbay, McCoy and Jim still on the ground.

Bones got to work as soon as he could, pulling jim softly away from him, repeating what he'd said before they left.

_"Later."_

Jim did let out a yell as Bones suddenly lifted him and placed him on the bio-bed, pain flairing up and threatening to knock him out again. Bones removed the coat as carefully as he could, swearing under his breath as he realized how quickly the blood had stained through. He somehow hid it from Jim's line of sight, which was never a good thing. His heart pounded in his chest as he focused on staying awake and not looking to his left; not looking at his First Officer. Bones sent a look that was distasteful at best in Spock's direction, who had been standing shock-still at the spot he had appeared at, appearing to still be reigning his emotions in.

Before Spock could find room or time to protest, Bones had a firm grasp on the disgustingly bland curtains and was pulling them shut, simply stating doctor-patient confidentiality. He rushed around the small area and after a moment of digging in drawers approached Jim with his usual hypospray and a slightly apprehensive look.

Jim just nodded, turning his neck to make it easier, for once welcoming the shot that would hopefully knock him out; make him _forget_, make him _numb_ for just a little while. Bones adminstered it as gently as he could, and Jim welcomed the darkness.

* * *

><p>McCoy sat at his bestfriend's bedside, his head in his hands as he continued his thoroughly self-deprecating thought process.<p>

_How in the hell had this happened? _

_How could they have let Jim go on such a dangerous mission and beam down by himself? _

_How could they have listened to him and let him do that? _

Despite Jim's own messed up past he helped McCoy though the stress that his ex-wife had poured down on him; helped him manage to win over frequent visitations and communication rights with his daughter; helped him with his drinking problem; put up with his constant attitude and never complained a single fucking time.

He had eventually opened up to McCoy about his own problems with his abusive stepfather and his runaway older brother; one time when he was young that almost led to him killing himself by driving his father's old vintage car off a cliff. He'd told him about his time on Tarsus IV and how his mother abandoned him for Starfleet. He'd explained that he'd originally only joined to prove himself better; to prove her and Frank and Sam and _everyone else_ wrong, that he'd never ridden on the coattails of a man he never had the chance to meet, that he could beat them at their own game.

He'd told him things that no one ever knew about him but McCoy wasn't competent enough to know how to deal with this. McCoy didn't know what he could do to fix this; if he could ever fix it.

If he heard Spock come to stand beside him, he didn't show it.

After a minute or so of tense silence, McCoy finally glanced up at Spock, whose own eyes were focused solely on Kirk. His own eyes traveled back to his friend. Leonard had had to move Jim to lay on his stomach so he could..._repair_ what damage he could before covering him with the softest blanket he could find and letting him lay in peace. He hadn't been able to rid him of the scars on his back, the reason of which he had no idea, and was filled with frustration at the thought.

He didn't even know what the hell the bastards had carved into his back so thickly in the middle and all around the edges. Having it written so largely was bad enough, let alone the fact that it looked like they left it to heal for a little while so that they could etch it all over the rest of his back, only to go and slice it open a few more times.

He wasn't familiar with this word, and he was aware since the start of the mission that Spock didn't speak Cardassian either, so that left only a single person on this ship he knew, and could trust, to ask. He wouldn't do it until his friend gave his permission; if he didn't want her to know, he would use other means to find out if he had to.

He honestly wasn't sure how Jim would act when he woke up, neither did he have any idea of when that would be. Jim, being Jim, normally took a bit longer to heal because of his faulty immune system, so that guaranteed them at least two days... That didn't include the fact that when Jim was sick, he tended to work himself up right back up so quickly that Bones had to medicate him, lest he end up injuring himself any more.

McCoy looked back up at Spock for a moment and sighed, standing abruptly which caused Spock's eyes to snap to him, regaining a fraction of his focus. Leonard began to pace, one hand on his hip and the other still on his face. Spock didn't say a word and he was actually kind of grateful for that. He took one more glance at his unconcious bestfriend before pulling his words together quickly. "You won't tell anyone about this," it came out fast, firm and informal. A warning.

Well, that hadn't exactly been what he'd been planning on saying...

Spock's hands were once again clasped behind his back, and he raised an eyebrow, which only served to infuriate Leonard more because _no way in hell_ did his expression match. Neither did his words.

His voice was as monotone as could be, cold, _closed off._ "With all due respect, Doctor, who do you believe that I would divulge the details of this incident to? Additionally, might I inquire as to what I would be divulging?"

It wasn't all that different from usual, but there was a cold, bitter edge that McCoy was trained to notice; _disbelief._ Even if he could see that Spock was extremely upset and was essentially playing dumb, that didn't mean he wasn't currently resisting the urge to punch him in the face. He paused in his step, partially shielding Jim from view once more. His fists were both tightened at his sides and there was a fire in his eyes that not many people had seen before.

_Fury._

_Helplessness._

While Leonard had been irritated with Jim and several other crewmembers countless tmes previously, he had never shown anything so frighteningly close to hatred before. Since that last disastrous fight with his ex-wife that had resulted in their divorce, he had always succeeded on keeping a handle on his anger, however slight.

Except now.

"My fucking god, Spock!" he yelled, frightening Chapel who had been on the other side of the partition. She dropped the rest of the syringes McCoy had asked her to get, quickly picking them back up and leaving the on another one of the empty bio-beds. She left the room as quickly, standing outside and letting them do their thing without eavesdropping. She didn't know what was wrong with the Captain; which was undoubtedly what they were arguing about, but it sounded pretty damn serious. Paying her no mind, Bones continued on.

"I know you know what happened, so don't try and pussyfoot around it!" His eyes burned as he glared at Spock, who, though very slightly, looked mildly suprised. Spock went to open his mouth, but McCoy beat him to it again, cutting him off.

"It wasn't another one of his 'pursuits'; he's a victim of sexual assault! They tortured him, you fucking heartless bastard! Need proof?" he exclaimed, storming over to Jim and pulling the blanket down without waiting for a response. Spock's eyes widened exponentially, and he seemed frozen again. He stared at McCoy with an almost foreign expression before his eyes shifted to the wall.

"I..." he began, and cleared his throat quietly. "I will report to my duty as temporary Acting Captain while Captain Kirk is on medical leave." With that, he walked out as fast as he could without tearing down some more of his Vulcan pride and shredding his dignity. McCoy huffed and collapsed back into his chair, tucking the blanket back over his peaceful-looking friend.

"Goddamnit, Jim..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Genre**: Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: J. Kirk, Spock  
><strong>Series<strong>: Star Trek: 2009  
><strong>Rating<strong>: M  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 1,463  
><strong>Length<strong>: Multiple  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Swearing  
><strong>Note<strong>: Sorry it's a bit shorter than usual; it's all I could do during this chapter.

* * *

><p>Jim woke up to the sound of someone entering through the partition, a pounding headache and a whole lot more than just sore limbs bringing him into full consciousness. He grunted as he attempted to push up onto his elbows, his wrist groaning under the weight.<p>

He'd caught the attention of the other person in the room, Chapel rushing over to him. She put weight on what parts of his shoulders were uncovered, forcing him to lay back down. She tutted at him, walking over to the wall and pressing a button beside the small screen, McCoy's face popping up after a few moments of silence.

"What do you need, Chapel?" he asked, both looking and sounding thoroughly disheveled. Jim couldn't turn his face enough to get a clear look at him, and gave up, shoving his face into the sanitizer-smelling pillow, hoping that it wouldn't trigger some random allergic reaction.

"You told me to wake you if the Captain regained conciousness, sir," she repied with a straight face, thoroughly nonplussed by her superior's usual grumpy attitude. McCoy's expression changed in an instant, concern knocking aside any other emotion.

"I'll be there," was all he said before the screen went back. Chapel gave a little shrug before sauntering back towards Jim, his muscles tightening involuntarily. She gave no notice of his discomfort as she typed something into her PADD, checking his vitals and all the usual things, sticking to the routine they had when he usually got injured on a mission.

Jim realized with a sudden clarity that she didn't know what was wrong with him. She couldn't know. She wouldn't look at him, wouldn't respect him, wouldn't stand to be near him if she knew. The moment Chapel went to go pull the blanket from his shoulders, he let out the quietest, most _pathetic_ whimper, clamping his eyes shut.

_She'd see, she'd know, she'd tell someone and then they'd all know..._

"Don't touch him!" Bones called as he rshed in, throwing the curtain aside. Jim's eyes snapped open once more. Chapel reacted automatically, no doubt frightened by the unusual tone in Bones' voice. Jim couldn't be more thankful, but he couldn't stop the pang of hurt from going through his heart when she pulled her hands away as if she'd been burned. Would everyone react that way if they knew?

He began to cough harshly into the pillow, still getting used to the all-too-familiar feeling of newly-regenerated ribs. Bones rushed over and Chapel took that as her cue to leave, sending McCoy questioning looks even as she pulled the curtains closed. McCoy poured over him with concern, poking, prodding, _does this hurt?_

It took McCoy the entirety of an hour before he finally backed off, convinced that Jim was okay, at least for the moment. He pulled up a chair up beside the bed before collapsing ungracefully onto it. Jim turned his face towards his bestfriend who watched him like a hawk as he slowly took his time in pushing himself up into a seated position. His wrist handled the weight this tme, and he felt nothing other than the slight tug of the skin on his back.

McCoy looked away as his friend reached behind him, no doubt feeling the scars still on his back that he hadn't been able to heal. He couldn't bear it when Jim looked at him with wide eyes that were slowly filling with tears, and he whispered a quiet apology.

He wasn't prepared when Jim flung himself off the bed, only able to wrap his arms around his friend as he buried his face and cried into his shoulder. Leonard moved them so they were sitting on the bed, listening to Jim as he blubbered incoherent fragments of sentences at him, willing for him to _just please understand._ Leonard wasn't sure if he'd said anything back to Jim, but he continued to sit there and comfort his friend until he calmed down quite a while later.

Jim finally lifted his face to look at Leonard, still watery-eyed but no longer sobbing. Leonard watched a Jim swallowed, leaning his head back against his chest before talking. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm really sorry, Bones."

Leonard's face twisted in confusion as he stared down at the top of Jim's head. "What for?" he questioned, voice just as low, even though there was absolutely no reason for it.

"Everything, Bones," Jim admitted. "I-I'm sorry you've had to take care of me...I'm sorry you've had to be near someone like me; someone so...so _disgusting _and _weak. _I'm just," he swallowed again. "I'm so sorry."

Just like that and the floodgates had opened again, and Jim was crying against him; silently, this time.

Leonard could still feel the tears through his shirt.

Leonard held onto Jim tightly, whispering things into his ear in an attempt to comfort him. "No, Jim, you're wrong," he whispered, not objecting when Jim began to rock them both back and forth a little. He'd never broken down in front of Leonard before, and everything from so many years of pain were all crashing down on him at once like a tidal wave. Leonard could understand all too well.

"Jim," he whispered, begging for the attention of his friend. "Jim," he whispered again, and Jim looked up at him, tears dripping off his chin. "You're wrong. You're not disgusting; it wasn't your fault," he said, and although Jim didn't seem particularly convinced, it caused him to stop crying and to relax against him.

They sat there for who knows how long before they eventually pulled apart, Jim laying back down on the bed on his side and Leonard remaining where he was on the edge. He looked at Jim silently before he began, deciding that after this he'd let Jim sleep.

"Jim," he started, his friend's eyes blinking open again at the sound of his voice. Jim hummed in response, ackowledging him and adjusting himself on the bed. "Jim, I..." he paused again, unsure how to phrase it delicately and prevent any more...overly-emotional responses.

"You don't know what it says, do you?" Jim spoke, thoroughly unnerving Leonard for a moment. He glanced down at his friend, making eye contact for only a second before sighing; something he seemed to be doing often lately. "No," he conceded, staring at the wall. "Jim, I could..." he stopped yet again, and was forced to wonder when this man had turned him into such a softy. "I could ask Uhura, Jim. She's the only one on this ship familiar with Cardassian."

He could almost fucking _feel_ Jim's flinch at the word, and he held his breath. After a few moments, he heard a small intake of breath and his eyes flickered back to Jim, who looked deep in thought. "Okay," he whispered, and McCoy _almost_ would have smiled, had he not known what emotional distress his friend was in.

"You sure, Jim?" he questioned, slightly skeptical. Could you blame him? He knew what Jim was like.

"Y-yeah, Bones. Can you...can you put me under, though?" he whispered, dropping his tone again as if expecting Leonard to flip out on him, which, in all honesty, he normally would have. "I just...I don't want to see her face. Please," he begged.

"Yeah, Jim. I will." Jim closed his eyes and let out his breath, relieved. Leonard stood up, digging into more drawers before pulling out another hypospray. Jim turned onto his stomach, and Bones came to stand beside him. Before McCoy went to put him out, Jim murmured something.

"Thanks, Bones."

Leonard injected the shot and put the syringe down on the side table before sighing.

"Yeah, yeah, kid. Sleep."

Jim proceeded to do just that and Leonard sighed again, standing still and running a hand though his hair for a moment before hopping back into action.

He had a certain Communication's Officer to track down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Genre**: Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: J. Kirk, Spock  
><strong>Series<strong>: Star Trek: 2009  
><strong>Rating<strong>: M  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 2,610  
><strong>Length<strong>: Multiple  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Swearing  
><strong>Note<strong>: Going to try and update every other day; this is also the longest chapter I've posted on this site so far.

* * *

><p>Finding the lieutenant hadn't been too difficult a task, in all honesty.<p>

There were only so many places on the _Enterprise_ she could be. Since McCoy had tried her quarters and the Mess Hall first, there was only one place left that she'd likely be. Granted, he'd wanted to avoid going there at all costs, but the sedative he'd given Jim was only going to last so long.

McCoy waltzed onto the bridge with unusual stiffness, almost everyone in there turning to look at him. He approached the Captain's chair where Spock was sitting –likely what everyone was staring at him for; he was the Captain's bestfriend, after all– and ignored the tense silence surrounding them, as the rest of the crew failed to be subtle in any form. Damn, they didn't need to listen, did they? Did they not have any self-respect? He had to hold back the urge to tell them to all mind their own damn buisness.

"Doctor," Spock stated, dragging his eyes up from his PADD to look at him. He sat considerably tense since his arrival, even for a Vulcan, and he was sure the rest of the crew had noticed. McCoy got some sort of happiness just from knowing he could make the man squirm, even in this type of situation.

Well, he might as well just ask then, shouldn't he? "I need to borrow Lieutenant Uhura" – she turned and faced him from her station, confusion written all over her face – "for a little bit down in Sickbay." He didn't have much luck in reading Spock's expression this time. It seemed Spock was schooling his damn Vulcan indifference. McCoy wasn't fooled that easily, and he doubted Jim would be either.

Spock stood, seeming to automatically assume that since he was standing in for Jim as Captain, he was allowed to follow. McCoy simply stood in place a second, hoping to get the thought across before giving up and clarifying. "_Alone._" This caused many of the crewmembers to tense up, turning away and pretending to work on their assignments. Sulu was trying his best to ignore them – was he the only one? – and Chekov was biting his cheek nervously.

Spock merely raised an eyebrow, clasping his hands behind his back. "Doctor, protocol states that in the event o-" he didn't even flinch when McCoy cut him off, seeming slightly irritated by it, at the absolute most.

"I don't give a damn about protocol, Spock! As Chief Medical Officer, I can override you if I have to, or do I really have to remind you of doctor-patient confidentiailty?" He spat, fury burning in his eyes. Many of the crew on the bridge sat wide-eyed, having never heard him take a tone like that with the First Officer before. Sure, they knew that they had their differences, and they knew that neither particularly enjoyed the other's presence, but this was apparently a different matter entirely.

At Spock's still falsely-questioning stare, McCoy took a deep breath and calmed himself. He would explain and it would come out respectfully. Respectful. Yes. Alright. He could do that.

"If Jim wanted to see you, he'd say so."

Well, things never came out as he planned them to, did they?

Spock seemed slightly put off at that remark but schooled his expression quickly back to indifference before replying. "Very well. Lieutenant Uhura, please accompany Doctor McCoy to Sickbay." At her name, she immidiately rose from her seat, seemingly unsure of herself. Leonard couldn't blame her. They did kind of thrust her into an awkward position...

Leonard made eye contact with no one, exiting the bridge and standing in the turbolift as Nyota scrambled to catch up with him. The doors shut and they began to descend, the silence slightly less suffocationg than what it had been on the bridge, but still pretty heavy. Finally, Uhura spoke up. "Does this have anything to do with Jim?"

McCoy almost ignored her but decided not to, but only because he knew it wouldn't help Jim's situation. As the lieutenant went to go press the button to stop the lift, McCoy batted her hand away. "I wasn't aware that you got over your hatred enough to start calling him by his first name," he growled, exiting the lift as the doors opened, knowing her well enough to know she would follow. He stepped out of the way of two yeomen who hadn't been paying attention, not even bothering to tell them to watch where they were going. He needed to know what was written all over Jim's back; what they'd cursed him to have for the rest of his life. That was the most important thing on his agenda right now, not something petty like that.

McCoy turned a corner, continuing to talk. "But yeah, Lieutenant, this is about the Captain. You know how to read Cardassian, right?" he asked, not even bothering to look back at her. She jogged to stand beside him, barely keeping up with his pace.

"Yes," she started, brushing hair out of her face. "Why, though? Did we recieve a written transmission or something?" McCoy scowled, walking into Sickbay without answering her question right away.

"Something like that," he started. Chapel took one look at him and, as she seemed to be doing a lot lately, promptly made herself scarce. She put down her PADD on one of the bio-beds and gave Leonard a small nod, exiting the room and locking it behind her with a code that only four people on the _Enterprise_ knew. Since two of them were both inside of Sickbay, one understood when to leave, and the other was on the bridge, McCoy knew they would have no interruptions.

Before he approached the closed-off area in the corner that everyone had come to know as mainly the Captain's own little space, he paused in his step. Uhura almost walked right into him, and stopped herself just in time before he turned around. "Are you going to tell me what's going on yet, or not?" she asked, becoming rather angry at the situation. However, when she saw the look on the Doctor's face, she quickly changed that attitude.

He looked much older than she had ever seen, appearing years beyond his age in weariness. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tugging a bit on the ends. "Look, Nyota," he said, reverting back to her first name like she normally allowed him to. "You can't tell anyone, and yes, I mean _anyone,_" he emphasized. "_Especially_ not Spock, what you translate in this room. I mean it," he paused. "Not a soul. Got it?"

Uhura nodded solemnly, holding her hands in front of her respectively. "Understood, sir." Leonard seemed appeased for a moment and turned back around, walking up to the curtain and pulling it to the side. She walked over with him, and noticed the look he sent his friend who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Leonard stood silent for a moment beside him, and Uhura couldn't help but wonder. "Why isn't he awake?"

Leonard let out another small sigh, snapping himself out of his state. He glanced up at her before looking back down at his friend. "I can't tell you that, Nyota. He said I could let you in and let you know about some of this, but I don't have the right to say anything else."

Before Uhura could question why she was only allowed to know some of whatever situation this was, McCoy pulled the blanket covering the Captain's back down.

Her hands flew up to her mouth at the mess, and her thoughts immidiately scrambled. There were scars, and cuts, and _oh god they were everywhere. _They'd been cut in so deep and they overlapped, covering almost every inch of the Captain's back from his shoulders to his hips. McCoy simply let her look, relating to the look of horror all over her face with such a large amount of understanding that it almost made her sick. As a matter of fact, if she didn't pull herself together soon, she _was_ going to end up being sick. McCoy sat down on the seat beside the bed, leaning his elbows beside his friend's side on the bed.

She stood there for a while, simply staring. There was no one there but McCoy, so she didn't have to act like she wasn't suprised. The Captain almost always got hurt on missions, but this was different. This was so, _so_ much different. This was _torture_, not a simple confrontation or some stupid bar fight. They'd probably sat there and laughed as he writhed in pain. She was aware of the Cardassian's anger towards the Federation, but she hadn't realized it had reached this extent.

She didn't know how long it took for her to be able to start connecting the lines and scratches into some form of pattern, but it took her a long time to just get over the pure amount of shock. Her mind couldn't even begin to fathom the utter pain he must have been in while these things were carved into his skin; how he must have felt. She understood why Bones had been so rude to Spock before; she understood why no one else could know. This wasn't even the full capacity of it, if she understood what she'd been told correctly.

Her eyes trailed all over his back; up, down, left, back up, down, left, right. She tried to make sense of the words, her mind searching frantically for some way to explain it to McCoy. She knew what the word was there to convey; it was a word forbidden in Cardassian culture. They didn't ever speak this word, and there was only two sole times she'd ever heard of it being used in history, both times leading to beatings, isolation, and even a punishment in prison.

She finally tore her eyes from Jim's marred back, staring at McCoy. He gave her some time before he spoke up, voice almost trembling at the look on her face. He knew that it couldn't be good. "What does it say, Nyota?" he asked her. He stared at her as she attempted to find at least a few words in their culture to describe it, taking so long that McCoy thought it prudent to ask her again. "Nyota, you need to tell me. I need to know. _Jim _needs to know."

She nodded, clearing her throat a little before speaking quietly, as if she were afraid of being over-heard. "Well...it...it's a word that they have severe punishment for in Cardassia; I've only ever heard of it being used twice..." she began, noticing how she had McCoy's full, rapt attention. She swallowed harshly. "It...there's no word for it in Standard that it can translate directly over to, but it's like," she paused again. It was so damn hard to explain this.

"If you shoved every terrible curse or derogatory term into one; mashed them together, you could probably find something that could mirror it." McCoy frowned, giving her time to continue, knowing she definitely wasn't done. "It...it means that he's one of the most hated of their kind; instigator, deserving, unwelcome, traitor..." she paused before the last one.

"Whore. It's a word that can translate into a slave, a cheater, a prostitute; the lowest, most outlawed of their kind, shunned by the rest of society..." she clipped out, not even wanting to speak it. She wasn't sure why, but they seemed to have a grudge on Jim for some reason. What else could they have done to him, though? McCoy's eyes widened and he looked down at his friend and back up at her, remaining seated.

"I see...th...thank you, Nyota," he spoke, his gaze returning to his friend. He pulled the cover back over Jim before he leaned back in the chair, simply staring off into space. Uhura turned around and began to leave, closing the curtains behind her. She walked around the ship in a kind of haze for a while, taking the longest route back to the bridge she could manage. It was almost like she was unaware of everything going on around her, although she felt the complete opposite. Everything seemed so clear to her compared the the blurriness of the situation. How could someone do that to another person? Why would they do that to Jim? Sure, he normally came across as unlikeable, but he' never done anything to deserve something like that.

She eventually returned to the bridge, fiddling with the extra elastic on her wrist that she always carried around with her. Everyone's eyes were on her as she entered, and if they'd been worried before, her expression definitely didn't help. She went over to her station, falling right into her chair, not even paying attention to the report she should've been working on. The image of her –although she was reluctant to admit it– friend's back stayed firmly implanted her mind. How could someone do that to him?

She didn't even notice Spock until he was standing right beside her, and she automatically quelled the urge to jump in suprise. She looked at him, tearing her gaze away from her hair tie, not even bothering to move the strands of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. "Captain?" she asked, quiet as could be.

Spock seemed uncomfortable to be asking, but asked anyway. "What did Doctor McCoy require of you, Nyota?" He even used her first name in the presence of other crewmembers, something he'd never done before, nonetheless during their shift. The crew definitely seemed shocked by the concept and, as if the last few days hadn't been weird enough; not knowing why Spock and McCoy were on edge, or why their Captain wasn't around, and knowing that Uhura was stunned by the matter, they were even more lost. What the hell was going on?

"I can't tell you, Spock," she answered, looking back down at her feet. She couldn't tell him. No, no, no, she couldn't tell him. If there was one thing that she knew Jim hated, it was people knowing things they shouldn't. She wouldn't betray him, no matter how much he irritated her. She wouldn't do that. She _couldn't _do that.

She didn't look up to see Spock's expression, and only nodded when he requested that, in the nicest tone possible, if there was nothing to say, that she should return back to her work.

If there was any way Uhura could've been able to focus on anything for the rest of that day, she didn't know of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
>Pairing: J. Kirk, Spock<br>Series: Star Trek: 2009  
>Rating: M<br>Word Count: 1,871  
>Length: Multiple<br>Warnings: None  
>Note: I will, regrettably, be unable to upload until Tuesday. MASS MoCa, here I come!<p>

* * *

><p>"Jim. <em>Jim. Wake up."<em>

The feeling of waking up from sedation would never fail to bother Jim. It wasn't a very comfortable experience; feeling like there's a weight pressing down on your chest and having to sort through the haze like searching for a curtain in the dark. He slowly came to consciousness, his face on the side of the pillow, staring right into the face of his bestfriend.

Despite the initial shock of _holy shit way too close_, Jim managed to stay still. He was fully awake within the first five seconds, noticing automatically the red tint to the rims of Leonard's eyes. His breath hitched at the sight and he went to go push himself up, Leonard helping him up with a hand on his shoulder.

"Bones, what's wrong?" he asked, reaching over and grabbing his friend's hand. When Leonard didn't pull away like he normally would, calling him a chick for hand-holding, Jim realized just how serious this had to be.

In fact, Leonard gripped his hand tightly, tapping his foot and adjusting himself in the chair he was in. This only served to confuse Jim more; he didn't understand. "Bones, why were you crying?" he questioned. Bones only sighed, leaning his face against his hand.

"Jim, you remember why you asked me to put you under, right?" he asked, and suddenly it all clicked. The puffy, red-rimmed eyes, the tone, the physical contact.

Oh.

_Oh._

Jim inhaled sharply at the realization, taking two deep breaths before facing his friend completely and gripping his hand so tightly he probably could've cut circulation. Bones didn't appear to mind. "What does it mean?" he asked, voice obeying for once and not trembling in the slightest.

"Jim, it means..."

* * *

><p>It had been eight days since he'd taken over his temporary Captainship, Spock observed. Fro m what knowledge he had, albeit a terribly small amount, James had been conscious for at least two days of those eight. He stood, observing a plant they'd noticed had started to wilt for a reason they could not find, in the Botany lab. He used this time to allow himself to ponder his thoughts.<p>

Ever since Jim Kirk had come back in such a state from the mission to recieve information from the Cardassian vessel –he could not deny the pang of guilt that struck his conscience, however illogical it happened to be– Spock had not been able to stop thinking about his well-being.

He realized that he was 'worried', as his mother would have described it. Even though the thought of Amanda tended to cause him a large amount of strong, emotional pain, Spock found that he thought of her more often than could possibly be positive for his mental health. He often found himself thinking of Jim in much the same fashion – _far, far too often._

He had decided to attempt to come to terms with his human half, as it would be a disgrace to his mother to continue to ignore it as he had done so in the past. He knew he wouldn't be able to disregard his Vulcan ways, but he would try his hardest to understand that part of himself, if only for his mother's memory if nothing else.

Spock reached forward to tenatively touch the purple blossoms of the plant, and found it fascinating when the petals seemed to lighten. At the sight, he could not help but wonder how Jim was faring, forced to stay in a place he held so much hatred for. Of course, Doctor McCoy was stationed at his bedside –he felt another emotion run it's course at the thoughts and let it, though he found it was a particular emotion he'd rather not have to explore the meaning of– but he knew better than anyone how it felt to be locked in somewhere you didn't want to be.

Although, as insensitive as he was, he trusted the doctor, but it still managed to frustrate him that he was not allowed to speak with Jim. Although he doubted his presence would be a contributing factor in either Jim's physical or mental recovery, it would assure Spock that the man had improved from how he had been on that night.

Despite how Spock knew it must have seemed to Doctor McCoy, he had not intended, nor had he even thought of the Captain's current predicament being the result of one of his – 'pursuits', as the doctor had so kindly put it. When Spock had left that evening, he had to ask Nyota to physically restrain and keep him, by any means necessary, from entering the bridge. He would have automatically required that Mister Sulu plot a course back to where the ship was still stationed near the orbit of M579-013 so that he could personally aquire a form of revenge.

Having never experience such intense anger since his mother's death, he had found it quite necessary to report to the recreation room, where he worked out his frustrations in the form of a punching bag. He'd, regrettably, had to stop after a short while, due to the fact that he had knocked the bag off of it's metal hanging.

He felt fortunate that he had the time to think, despite the doubling of his responsibilities as both First Officer and Captain. As fast as he knew he could push through his duties and have them finished at a respective time and in adequate quality, he rarely had time to return to the Science department, let alone spend time wondering about things as he was. He should have probably been preparing his next assignment, but he knew that he could 'push it off' until tomorrow.

He didn't turn his head as he heard someone step in the room behind him a while later, and had to resist the urge to sigh as the person began to speak to him. "Commander," Sulu greeted, only recieving a slight nod of acknowledgment from Spock. "Commander," Sulu repeated, watching as Spock observed the plant. "Sorry for bothering you during your work period, first of all," he apologised, and Spock had to hold in an unneeded comment perhaps along the lines of _'If you are so sincere in your apology, then would it have not been more acceptable to inquire this of me at I time that I was not engaged in other activities?'_.

It was begging to be spoken, but Spock kept silent, giving him time to saw what he no doubt felt was necessary. Spock's temper had been running short often during the time James hadn't been on the bridge, but he had expected this conversation a long time beforehand, though he hadn't anticipated that Sulu would be the first to approach him in such a manner.

"I just...I was..." Sulu began, tripping over his words as he tried to form them in a manner that his superior would not take offense to. "Alright," he decided, his tone becoming more confident. Spock really wished they could just get this over with, have Jim return, perhaps even return to the events before the last eight-point-two days. Spock could handle being Captain, but his way was much more closed-off, all-buisness rather than Jim's friendly approach. He couldn't help it, though; it was what he'd grown up with. Purely proffesional. That didn't necessarily mean he enjoyed the prospect.

"I'll just be blunt with this then. Where's Jim?" he asked, facing Spock fully. Spock found, however, that he could not face Sulu. He did let out the smallest sign of exasperation this time, petting the petals of the flower softly. The flower's condition seemed to improve at his touch, something of which he did not forget to note.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to disclose that information to you, Lieutenant Sulu," Spock spoke, and he felt Sulu stiffen beside him. Spock waited for the outburst, and wasn't suprised when it came. He merely settled for continuing to 'pet' the plant, attempting to send it positive emotions using his own touch-telepathy.

"What do you mean by that, Spock?" he almost yelled, settling for just raising his voice. "I think I have a right to know what's wrong with my friend; why our Captain's been in Sickbay for more than a week now!" Spock accidentally bit his tongue when he looked over at the lieutenant's clenched fists, expecting the worse. He would understand if Sulu were to take out his frustration on him, honestly. He would not report mutiny; not with these circumstances. He knew how it felt to be uninformed about the well-being of someone you cared deeply for.

Did he really just think that?

Yes. Yes, he did.

Deciding not to dwell on the things he'd just thought, he instead focused on the plant. The blossoms felt soft underneath his fingertips, and the purple seemed to shimmer. Spock glanced over at Sulu once more, who was still waiting angrily for him to say something.

"If the Captain wanted either of us to know, he would have told us personally. I know the basics of the situation only because of Doctor McCoy and my status as First Officer," he lied. He doubted that Jim would tell him much, under any circumstance. He hadn't meant the words to come out with the tone they had, but there wasn't much of an opportunity to mend it now, was there?

Sulu seemed to snap quickly back into place, realizing just who he was talking to. He spun around quickly, exiting the room without so much as another word. Spock let out a breath of air, unsure of whether or not to be relieved. How long until James was back? He bit his lip and sighed, taking an immidiate seat on the cold floor for a moment of brief meditation.

He'd been having trouble with it, which was one of the main causes for his short temper lately. He did have to admit that not having Jim on the bridge was straining his nerves; all the tension did no good for him. He took every available chance to meditate without being seen, and especially after he began to feel the slightest amount of anger.

What felt like almost seconds later, Spock had stood once more, stroked a petal of the flowers on the plant once more, turned on his heel and left.

He didn't stick around to watch as the plant drew in on itself and withered, crumpling and dying.


	6. Chapter 6

**Genre**: Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: J. Kirk, Spock  
><strong>Series<strong>: Star Trek: 2009  
><strong>Rating<strong>: M  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 2,924  
><strong>Length<strong>: Multiple  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Swearing  
><strong>Note<strong>: I beat chapter four! This is now the longest chapter!

* * *

><p>"Bones, calm down, I'm fine," Jim insisted, pushing away his friend's hands as he attempted to scan him with the tricorder. <em>Again.<em> "Bones, chill!" he exclaimed, and McCoy glanced up briefly before stepping away with reluctance. He shifted on his feet, tossing the tricorder on one of the beds and sighed.

"Jim," he went to start, but paused as he noticed the look on Chapel's face, who was standing behind his friend. He let out a loud huff of air, finally giving in. "Call me up if you need me," he said, settling himself onto the bed and grabbing for some equiptment to adjust.

Jim nodded, flashing his Captain smile before turning around and exiting Sickbay for the first time in over a week. McCoy glanced up at the highest-ranking female member of his medical staff.

"I need a drink."

* * *

><p>Jim saw less people than he expected on his way up to the bridge, and those who saw him quickly greeted him before continuing onto their own work. His injuries on missions weren't an abnormal occurence to them. Jim stood in the lift and moments before he knew he would arrive at the bridge he chickened out.<p>

He hit the button and stopped the lift abruptly, leaning against the wall and staring up at the ceiling as he fought to control his emotions. His heart pounded violently inside of his chest and bile rose in his throat, his stomach threatening to empty itself of what little he had eaten recently. He tried his hardest not to gag. They were his crew. He was the Captain. He could do this. He was fine. He was alright.

He took a few moments to pull himself together, at least outwardly, but the feeling in his stomach; the trembling; the nausea didn't go away. He punched the button before he could give himself any more time to think about hiding, and shoved his hands in his pockets as a last resort.

He finally reached the bridge and stepped out of the lift, all eyes whipping to him as he entered. They all seemed too shocked to speak for a moment. Jim approached his Captain's chair, glancing around at all the disbelieving faces, his stomach tightening with every moment of silence. He kept special care not to glance over at either Spock or Uhura.

As soon as his smile started to fade; his façade of happiness so close to breaking apart; backing up and preparing to sprint away again –_Did they know?_– there was a loud chorus of 'Captain!' and more than several welcome back's. Chekov threw himself out of his seat, hurtling towards Jim like a tiny Russian torpedo.

Time slowed for Jim and it almost felt like one of those cheesy flashbacks, and as soon as Chekov made contact with him, telling him how _glad_ and _relieved_ he was to have his Captain back, Jim shoved him away in instinct. _Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me!_ his brain screamed, but the most of that he showed was the terrified look on his face that lasted for only a second. Everyone's breath seemed to catch, and Chekov righted himself, looking at Jim with a sad look of rejection on his face.

Jim quickly pulled himself together, telling himself how it was only Chekov; how nothing was wrong; that he was _fine_. Everyone seemed to stare at him and Jim fixed his expression, chuckling and shrugging, sounding unconvincing to even his own ears. "Sorry about that, Chekov!" he laughed, his hand fisting at his thigh, out of sight of the rest of the crew. "Bones was sick of me ending up in Sickbay, so he gave me some stitches to teach me a lesson. No touching. Doctor's orders."

Then, just like that, time seemed to right itself again, everyone laughing and automatically going along with it. After all, their Captain never lied to them before, did he?

He did.

Jim clapped Chekov on the shoulder and sent him an apologetic look, and got a big smile and Chekov's own apology in return. He slowly lowered himself onto the chair, feeling the skin on his back shift uncomfortably again. He was constantly in danger of tearing open one of the scars on his back, which seemed to be healing slower than they had in the beginning, if at all.

He felt the burning gazes of two individuals on his back, and found that he had to eventually turn around and see them. He went around the bridge, asking for reports from each of his members about the activities of his crew during his medical leave; did they practice the drills he had asked, what percentage did they succeed at, who ranked the highest? He eventually landed on Nyota, and failed at his attempt to keep his gaze focused on her shoulder.

"Anything to report, Uhura?" he asked, informal as he always was. He attempted to act normally, and it probably seemed that way to everyone else, but the look on Uhura's face told him exactly what he expected. She had no intent of hiding what they'd shared between eachother; he only had a matter of time before she cornered him to speak about it.

"N-nothing, sir," she spoke, and everyone seemed to pick up on both the stutter and the formality, both things that Uhura _never_ did. No one made a comment, and Jim nodded, mentally preparing himself for what he'd have to do next. The prospect of speaking to Uhura was a trip to the county fair in comparison. He let out a small breath of air before turning to look at his First Officer, his insides twisting as if someone had them in their grip.

"Spock?" he asked simply, staring his ever-indifferent –_he dared consider it_– friend in the face. Spock showed no outward form of emotion, but as Jim gazed into his eyes he felt as if he was being drowned in a pool of water; being choked again; shoved under the ocean. Spock's voice made that feeling every bit more real, as if his lungs were being filled with a liquid.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain," he said, and Jim turned away without another word. He closed his eyes or a moment, leaning back in his chair and willing his pulse to slow.

_It's Spock; only Spock, that's all..._

He allowed himself to sift through his imagination for a moment before snapping his eyes open at the sound of his communicator beeping. He slowly pulled it out, flipping it open. "You've got a transmission coming through in the briefing room, Captain. Admiral Pike says he needs you, Lieutenant Uhura, Commander Spock, and Doctor McCoy for a conference."

At the serious tone of the ensign's voice – _Smith, wasn't it? He couldn't remember exactly_– Jim's breath almost caught. _Almost. _He let his eyes flutter closed for a moment more, taking a deep breath before replying. "Yes Ensign, thank you."

He stood just as slowly as he sat down, holding in a hiss of discomfort as he did so. He walked over and pressed a button on the transparent panel beside Chekov, his bestfriend's worried face popping up on a screen almost immidiately as if he'd been waiting there, which he probably had, now that Jim thought about it. Everyone was watching him closely, wondering what was going on. "What's wrong, Jim?" he asked, clearly disregarding anyone else on the bridge.

"Pike wants us for a conference. Meet me in the briefing room?" he asked, getting a simple nod in response before he cut the connection. He spun around and tried his best not too look too closely at either of his officers. "Spock, Uhura," he said, and they both were immidiately at attentoin. He made a 'follow me' gesture with his hands and they caught on instantly, stading up and following him.

The lift doors closed behind them and Jim was back to begging his own body not to collapse into a bundle of nerves. He had one hand casually leaned on the wall, and he stared ahead silently. The tension was threatening to strangle the three of them, he was sure of it. Uhura finally spoke up; the sound of her voice almost startled Jim. "What does Admiral Pike need a conference for?" She asked, only adding on the polite 'Captain' after seeing Spock's raised eyebrow that Jim, of course, did not see.

"If I knew, I would tell you," he said simply, the tiniest bit hardness in his voice. He added on neither 'lieutenant' nor 'Uhura' as usually would, and as soon as the doors opened, he continue on at his fast pace, leaving Spock and Uhura to exchange a questioning glance at his back as they fell into step side by side.

Jim turned corners sharply, his heart pounding in his chest. What did Pike want? He settled for mentally crossing his fingers as he approached the hallway, Bones joining them in their fast-paced stride from an ajoining passage. "What do you think Pike wants?" Bones asked, looking equally serious as Jim. That was never a good sign.

Jim could only shrug, and the four of them reached the door. Jim could barely hold back a sigh as they walked in, walking around the large table in the middle of the room, glad that the lights were only at twenty-seven percent. He leaned back against the front of the table, adjusting himself as he felt one of his gashes begin to strain. He waited until Spock and Uhura took their seats behind him, Bones settling to stand beside him.

Jim took a deep breath and pressed the button. Almost right away Pike's face popped up, joined by none other than Admiral Komack. Jim muttered under his breath, only stopping after a well-hidden elbow in the side from Bones. "It's nice to see you again, Pike. It's been a while," he greeted respectfully, a small smirk on his face. However, Pike stayed stone-faced, just about to start before he was cut off by Komack.

"Still haven't learned to respect your superiors, I see, Kirk," Komack snarled from beside Pike. To Uhura and Spock, Jim's reaction may have seemed a little unjust, but they could plainly see this wasn't an unfamiliar occurence between the two, nor was the tension. Bones made no comment; Komack deserved whatever he got, in his opinion.

"Still haven't learned when to butt out, I see, Komack," Jim mocked. He and Komack had never really gotten along; to Jim it had appeared that the Admiral had something against him all during his time at the Academy, several incidents had involved them arguing, and Jim was well aware that he was lucky enough not to have been kicked out. He hadn't been all too impressed with the man when he'd been questioned in front of the Starfleet Academy Board, and nothing had improved since then. Actually, if anything, it had gotten worse. At least he didn't need to see him everyday anymore, though.

Before they could, no doubt, begin to argue, Pike stopped them. "I had a serious reason regarding this conference. Jim, James; if you two could keep from tearing eachother's throats open for a few moments, it would be appreciated."

Jim, who had no original intention to continue bickering with Komack, no matter how much he really wanted to, remained tight-lipped. Komack's mouth clamped shut; he'd been about to say something, but it seemed he was well aware of the authority that Pike could hold over his head. Jim looked at his former captain expectantly.

"Alright, seeing as I know exactly how much work you've got to do as Captain, Jim, I'll get this done with quickly. All we were informed of was that you failed the recent mission you'd been assigned with no details after that except that you had to stay in Sickbay for more than a week. Everything else was on lockdown in a restricted file, and we can't override that if it was your physician who secured it."

Jim was now staring pale-faced at the screen, fingers clenched against the table. His heart pounded in his chest, though he was, however, a little relieved. They didn't know, and they couldn't find out. Spock and Uhura glanced over at McCoy who also seemed a little affronted, but otherwise unaffected, before returning their gazes to the two admirals. They all sat there in silence, watching Pike and Komack. Pike actually seemed suprised at their lack of response; Spock and Uhura in particular.

"Jim, you need to tell me what went on during that mission. Did you get the information or not? Why you were you on medical leave for so long. What did they do to you?" Pike asked, almost begging for answers. The look on his face and the tone of his voice alone probably would have convinced anyone; ensign or otherwise, to tell him the answers he was searching so desperately for, but the four of them remained silent.

After a moment or two, Komack seemed fed up and let out a quiet chuckle. Jim's eyes focused on him, a sort of melancholy spreading across his features. This was, however, quickly turned to anger at Komack's words.

"Kid probably fell and got a scrape! Doubt it was something important, coming from him," he goaded, and Pike glared at him. Jim's fists tightened on the tabletop. "Probably just wanted more attention now that the _Narada_ incident's over and he's not riding on his dad's glory."

Jim was vaguely aware of Pike reprimanding Komack for saying such things, and Bones' grip on his left forearm as his anger reached a boiling point. His face turned varied shades of pink, and he bit his tongue as he stood shock still, wishing that Komack was there so he could punch his lights out.

"You don't know a fucking thing about me! You don't know what went on!" he shouted, getting the attention of everyone else immidiately. The silence slammed down upon them like a giant sledgehammer. Pike looked suprised; he'd seen Jim get angry, but there was something different about his expression this time. His voice was off. The general wave of anger he felt had something...different about it. That was only added on top of the fact that he'd never heard the younger man swear at a superior before; not once in his life. Not even Komack. Sure, there had been other cadets, but that was a completely different situation.

"Yo-you don't know what they did!" he yelled, tripping on the first word and his voice breaking on the last. Bones' grip tightened beyond the point of belief and he was sure he was going to have bruises, but he still managed to yank his arm away, face flooding with shame as he held back tears. He contemplated for a moment before he rushed out of the room, the rest of the occupants standing quickly. Bones was the first to run after him; the shouting of his friend's name could be heard from the hall. After a small nod from Uhura, Spock followed after the pair quickly, more worried than she had seen him visibly display in a long time.

Uhura walked over to the small control panel and glanced up at a stunned Christopher Pike and an equally quiet Komack. She spoke quickly and clearly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Many wouldn't believe it, but the Communication's Officer could be a source of fright if she felt the need to enforce it.

"As you can see, the Captain has no desire to speak of the incident, nor do the four of us. We cannot know, even, for certain that we have the correct or the entirety of the information. I can only apologize for our secrecy, but Starfleet regulation happens to permit it, as you know. However, if you are so adamant to speak to him about it, now would likely not be the appropriate time, nor with the appropriate audience," she glared directly at Komack. "If that is all, Admirals, I will be departing."

Pike continued to sit in stunned silence, nodding once before Uhura took that as permission to cut the transmission. After she did so she exited the briefing room, heading in the opposite direction as the three others. After all, someone needed to be on the bridge. They were big boys. They could sort this out.

At least she hoped they could...


	7. Notice!

Hello everyone!

I'm well aware that underneath the FF Guidelines section, it prohibits the use of one chapter as an author's note. I give my apologies for that now - I'll be taking this down shortly.

I just wanted to let you know that, although not updated in a while, this story has _not _been abandoned. For the full explanation, check my author's bio or PM me.

I'm asking that you all give me just a little more of your time while I go back and sort through the old chapters. I had no long-term storyline for this and I'm working through that right now. I also plan on going back and adjusting previous chapters, so if you get the notification for a new one other than this, _please go back and read what I've adjusted. _There could be drastic changes, although I'd rather not have to resort to that c:

I thank each and every one of you who have favorited, reviewed, and followed this story. Hell, even if you've just laid your eyes on it. Thank you so much!

This message will be gone by tomorrow evening.

Thank you for taking your time to read this!

_-Natalie_


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